


Fishing Buddies

by garbageMcGee



Category: King of the Hill
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbageMcGee/pseuds/garbageMcGee
Summary: Hank and Dale open up after a long day of fishing and drinking cheap beer.





	Fishing Buddies

**Author's Note:**

> Hey a lot of people are reading this now so i though i would say, like. i didnt write this for realsies and this is just a goof. i genuinely tried to write a bad fanfic. i dont want this to be my legacy, i dont want to be the king of the hill guy.

Hank hefted the tackle box into the back of his red pickup, grunting from the effort. It was still early in the morning, but the day was already becoming quite a scorcher. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of his white t-shirt, exposing his pale midriff, a drastic contrast to the deep tan of his arms. He stared at the rest of the fishing equipment he had yet to put in the back. What had started out as a fishing trip for four quickly turned sour; as Bill backed out at the last second and Boomhower was too busy… doing whatever it was that Boomhower did with his time. The only one of his neighbors who managed to come along was Dale, who was currently inspecting the side of his pickup for dust, scraping his finger across it and scrutinizing the trace amounts of dirt. Dale regarded Hank over the top of his shades.  
“You ever wash this thing, Hank? Or are you too busy watering your precious lawn?” He smirked, leaning against the side of the truck. Hank was apparently in no mood for his antics, opting to ignore Dale’s comment.  
“Dammit Dale i’m trying to do something here and you're in the way.” he pushed Dale over to the side to pick up a cooler. He stumbled back a bit but managed to correct himself, lighting a cigarette and angrily muttering while Hank finished putting everything in its place. Hank struggled to push the cooler into the bed of the pickup truck, the cold plastic slipping through his sweaty hands. “You know,” Hank groaned, “I could really use some help.”  
“No can do mi amigo, do you know what the government puts in that plastic?”  
Hank sighed, “No Dale I don't”  
“Yeah, well, me neither.” Dale chuckled to himself. After battling for a while longer, hank finally managed to fit the cooler in, along with their fishing poles. “Say Hank,” Dale remarked as he opened the passenger door, “Where is this fishing hole you're taking us to?”  
Hank slammed the tailgate, then walked over and started the truck. “It’s a ways out, but it's nice and quiet. You ready?”  
Dale rolled the window down, leaned his arm on the door. His cigarette dangled from his hands.  
“Hell yeah.”

 

~

 

After four hours of trying and failing to catch even a single fish, Hank said Fuck It and decided to head back to shore. He and Dale were drenched with sweat, tired of swatting at mosquitoes and bickering with each other. Normally, Hank would have been more patient, but something was really itching at him. His bad mood had only made the fishing trip that much more unbearable, after all it was Dale he was stuck in a boat with. When they both managed to pull the boat ashore, they both crumbled down in the grass. After sitting for a while, baking in the hot summer sun, dale pulled himself from the cool green grass and came back with two beers, handing one to hank without a word. He mumbled a curt ‘thank you’ and guzzled the beverage without a second thought. They both sat like that for a while, basking in the silence.  
“What's eatin’ ya, Hank” the way he posed it, it was more of a statement than a question. It was hard not to notice that Hank was obviously upset about something. Hank took a long swig from his beer, and slammed it on the ground next to him.  
“Peggy is leaving me”  
The words left his mouth before he could even think about them. At first he considered lying, telling Dale that everything was fine, he was just having a hard time at work. But he knew he couldn't do it, couldn't lie to his friend like that. He felt relief flood his body, finally finally getting those words out of his mouth.  
“Hank I- I had no idea. I’m sorry man.” Dale tentatively placed his hand on Hank’s shoulder, ready to retract it if he seemed uncomfortable. After a moment, Dale moved to place his arm around Hank’s shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. “If you need anything, i’m here for you” dale said, as he patted hank on the back awkwardly. His hand lingered for a moment, but he pulled it away and avoided eye contact. “I. know how it feels” Dale watched as hank’s hand crept closer to his, until finally his rough calloused palm rested atop his own. Was Dale blushing? No, it must have been a sunburn. “Hank…” that same hand, tan and smooth, caressed his cheek. 

It all happened so fast after that. 

Before either of them could really comprehend what had just happened, hank had leaned into dale’s lips, kissing him deeply. It was, dale thought to himself, uncharacteristically bold of him. He had always harbored certain feelings towards hank, but now, with his hands grasping at the loose hem of his neighbor’s shirt, both of their tongues thrust deep into each others mouth, he found him undeniably sexy. Hank started to make his way down to dale’s neck, then unbuttoning his shirt until he was only wearing his thin, almost translucent wifebeater. He pulled himself away from dale’s lips, running his hands along the pale skin of his biceps, both men breathing deeply.  
“If i knew that this was all i needed to do to get you to shut up,” hank said, running his fingers over dale’s lips, smiling smugly when it elicited a moan from him, “i’d’ve tried it sooner” His hands moved to the zipper of dale’s jorts. Soon he was grasping at his throbbing member through the fabric of his underwear.  
“F-fuck hank, dont stop” Dale’s erection was straining through his briefs, and his fingers dug into the grass to keep from crying out. He bit his lip as hank moved his thumb over the length of it, leaning forward to kiss him again, dale moaning and thrusting into hank’s hand. Hank began to nibble at gribble’s ear, his breath hot and heavy. That alone was enough to send dale over the edge, but he managed to contain himself, just to feel hank stroke him for a little longer, just to feel the warmth of his calloused hands. Just to feel hank straddle him, pinning him to the ground, just to feel hank domineer him, sit back and let him take control and make dale his.  
“Fuck yeah hank, give it to me please. F-fuck, i want it so bad.” Dale was reduced to a quivering wet mess, and Hank seemed to be loving it, Dale could tell from the tent in his pants, rubbing against his thigh.  
“Yeah, you want it?”  
Dale could only nod his head. Hank leaned into him harder, stroking him with such ferocity that it might have painful if dale wasn't so far gone, loving every second of it.  
Moments later Dale came with a sudden jolt, his hands digging into hank’s shirt, screaming his name. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, hank’s breath jagged and deep on dale’s pale skin, dale panting and needy. Finally hank got up and moved to the truck, leaving dale on the grass, his mind scrambled. After a moment, dale went to compose himself, and clean himself up as well. Dale assumed hank had gone off to finish himself off, and by the time they both met back up, hank’s erection was gone. Both of them worked to put everything in it's place, without saying a word. Dale’s face was still flushed when he slammed the pickup door behind him. Hank soon followed, refusing to make eye contact with Dale as he started the truck.  
“You ready to go?”  
Dale adjusted his shades and lit a cigarette.  
“Yeah”


End file.
